No Shouts, No Calls (Emily)
by Ovarieacting
Summary: Four months after Naomi's death, and Emily's still not quite set on the right track yet. With a little help from her friends, she manages to pull her life back together, bit by bit. This is a rewrite of a story I began working on right after Skins:Fire came out.
1. Katie I

_**A/N:I wrote the basis for this piece four years ago, and as I was re-watching Skins, I thought it'd be a good idea to go back to this fic I started writing right after Skins:Fire (a total and utter mess with beautiful cinematography) aired. As I started reading it though, I didn't like the way I phrased things and just the overall feel to the fanfic, and I remember how much I wanted to give Emily a decent story with a decent end. She's such a good character to work with, and the series kind of forgot about that in Season 7. So I'm re-writing it. I want to post a chapter here and see if there's anyone out there who still cares for these characters, and for the story I want to tell in particular. I'd love to hear what you think and what you have to say, and to be able to give this character (and others included in this fanfic) the treatment they deserve. God bless you and have a wonderful day, and without further ado, here's the first chapter titled "Katie";**_

* * *

"So, Gordon McPherson is throwing a party tonight and I wanna go, mum." Emily just couldn't get used to her brother's constantly changing voice. James Fitch seemed to be growing by the minute, and there was something very amusing about the boy-man voice he had. Too low for a kid but still not an adult's voice.

Jenna Fitch gave her son a fierce look. "You are not going to Gordon McPherson's party, James, not on a school night!"

"But mum, everyone's gonna be there!" The boy argued.

"I don't care! If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you do it as well?"

"But it's not jumping off a bridge, it's a party!"

"Rob, tell him!"

Rob Fitch rubbed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "James, you can't go to the party."

"It's important for a boy my age to enforce his social status in social gatherings. In fact, if I don't branch out now, I'm probably going to end up miserable and socially unequipped for the rest of my life!" James crossed his arms over his chest.

"This is ridiculous, no parties on week days!" Jenna turned to her husband. "Rob, deal with this!"

"Alright son, thirty pull-ups." He pointed at the pull-up bar in the corridor.

All the while, the only ones silent around the table were Katie and Emily Fitch. Katie was looking at her twin sister, who barely ate two slices of carrot the entire meal.

"This is not fair!" James objected.

"Thirty pull-ups, now-"

"Are you just going to keep staring at the food, or are you actually going to eat it?" Katie's brassy voice echoed through the dining room, rendering it silent. Emily's gaze was torn from her plate, at which she had been staring for the past thirty minutes. She raised her head to look at her twin sister.

Katie's newest idea of fashion was to dye her hair blonde and dress like some kind of a suburban office employee with three kids.

"Katiekins, don-"

"I don't know, Katie. You know, because the thought of my dead girlfriend isn't exactly appetising, now is it?" Emily cut in over her mother's words. Jame's mouth was open wide with astonishment.

"Well I'm tired of this, Em! It's been four months! You're going to get kicked out of your fancy uni in New York, then you'll never find a job, and if you keep starving yourself you'll end up just like her." Seeing as she didn't get anybody's support around the table, Katie cleared her throat and looked into Emily's eyes. "She wouldn't want you to be like this, and it hurts me. It hurts everybody to see you fading away like that."

Emily replied with nothing but a cold look and some fiddling with her food.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Katie rolled her eyes and stood up. "I'm done." She threw one last glance at Emily, who still wasn't bothered enough to try and eat, and eventually let out a frustrated groan and left the table. She went upstairs, muttering out loud.

"She doesn't mean to hurt you, you know," Jenna offered Emily a faint smile. She was trying, Emily could give her that, but it was too little too late. Emily returned a smile just as feeble, and left the table to follow her sister. As soon as she left, Jenna let out a silent sob. Rob wrapped his arm around her in a warm hug.

"Don't think I forgot about you. Pull-ups, go." Rob looked at his son with a severe expression on his face while hugging his wife.

"Oh, bollocks!" James left the table, and went over the pull-up bar.

"I don't know what to do," Jenna sniffled.

"Oh, sweetheart, they'll talk this out. Emily just needs some time, love." He tightened his hug.

"It's just been so long since I've seen her happy," Jenna snuffled quietly, "Like she was with that Naomi girl."

"She'll come around eventually. She has to, she's a Fitch."

* * *

"Mind not being such a tit all the time?" Katie grunted when Emily entered the room. Instead of countless posters that used to hang about, there were now elegant pictures and graceful paintings that Emily had brought from New York. She ignored her sister and went for her bed, sparing her a single glance. Katie was packing her clothes.

"You're leaving already?" Emily asked.

"Well, unlike you, I'm trying to get a real career, so I have to leave. Besides, I'm tired of being here and waiting for you to reach a miraculous realisation that you're being an actual moron, because obviously, that's not happening any time soon."

"Oh sorry, I didn't know that making coffee for businessmen counted as a 'real career'."

"Well photography doesn't count as a real career either, so get over yourself!"

"At least I don't have to screw my boss to keep the job!"

"At least I pay my own rent! " Katie's words cut through Emily like a knife. She had a point.

"Nice one, thanks so much for the support, you cow."

Katie rolled her eyes at Emily, "For once, Emily, just once, don't fuck everything up! We're all trying to help you, even mum!" She crossed her arms over her chest, regarding her sister with a concerned look on her face. "We care about you, Em, and we just want you to get better."

"Better?" Emily's voice cracked, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath, "If you want me to get better, why don't you invent a time machine so I can go back in time and never leave Naomi's side, can you do that? Do you even have a clue how I'm feeling right now?"

Katie bit the inside of her cheek as a rush of guilt washed over her. "I'm sorry, Em." She tried to hug Emily, but the twin pulled away and shook her head.

"Just leave me alone, Katie." Emily said meekly and left the room.

"Emily!" Katie called after her sister, who was already too far away to hear her.

Emily wiped her tears away while going down the stairs, to no use as after a few moments her eyes were all wet again. She grabbed a coat from the hanger near the front door, trying her best not to be seen by her mother. She headed out, not having any clue as to where she should go. Drowning in a rain of thoughts, she let her feet lead the way.

Although it was summer, sudden gusts of wind sent shivers down Emily's spine. She walked past streets, buildings, parks and roads, all of which she knew like the back of her hand, to eventually be led to Naomi's old place in Bristol. It hadn't changed much, except for a large pride flag hanging over the front door. The house was sold a while after Emily and Naomi headed off to London and was bought by a young gay couple.

'Must be all the oils in the bedroom, attracting homos and lesbians to our petite piece of heaven,' Naomi's voice infiltrated Emily's brain. For a second, it almost felt like she was right there beside her, intertwining their fingers and sharing a laugh. She could almost feel it, and she nearly reached out for her – only to remind herself that the love of her life was, in fact, dead.

"Jesus Christ." Emily shut her eyes tightly in an attempt to get rid of the memories that overtook her brain and the shivers they sent up her spine.

She sat there, leaning against a large willow tree in the yard just across Naomi's house. Being there felt bittersweet. Memories from both being with Naomi and from fighting with her rushed through her head. Stupid sombreros and Garibaldi's, and the aviators Naomi gave her. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and Emily felt absolutely useless. All she could do was sit there and stare at what used to be her life. She felt even more useless as Katie had a point; if she didn't pull her life back together, she'd be kicked out of the university to which she worked so hard to be accepted.

A sudden noise behind her snapped Emily out of her thoughts and back into reality. "Emilio, I think you've reached a new low. " She turned around to witness Cook standing there, a big smile on his face. She hopped up on her feet and took a few steps back. "Oh come on, babe, don't be scared, it's just me."

It was Cook, but he looked so… different. He was bigger, and the beard he grew covered his face, giving him a rough apparel. There was a big bruise on his right cheek, and a cut on his brow.

"What the fuck happened to your face, Cook?" She asked. A malicious smile crept upon Cook's lips, making the bruise on his cheeks stretch slightly.

"You like it?" The smile was now a grin.

"God, no!" Emily smirked.

"You sure? Because I heard that them ladies like a man with scars." Cook's voice sounded unbelievably dirty.

"Yeah, well, it probably doesn't work the same with gay ones."

Suddenly, something in the friendly environment was broken. The silence that fell on the two felt heavy. The memory of Naomi Campbell attached additional weight to both Cook and Emily.

He looked up for a few seconds, as if he were examining the clouds, and when he looked back down at Emily, he reached his hand towards her face. His fingers touched her cheeks gently. "Heard from your sister you weren't doing too well, Ems. Want to tell me what's going on?"

Emily sighed and shrugged, once again the tears getting the better of her. Cook wrapped his arms around her in a hug, kissing the top of her forehead.

"I can't believe that she's gone, Cook." She held onto him, returning the hug. "I need her here so much."

"I know you do, kiddo. I know you do." He let go of Emily, allowing her a few moments to gather herself.

"She was so sick. By the end it got her so tired she couldn't even try to fight it."

Cook remained silent. A few seconds passed, followed by a few minutes, and eventually Emily calmed down. It felt rather odd, simply standing there in silence, with Cook of all people. It was always so loud around him. Emily wiped the tears off her face, offering him a weak smile. "Thank you, Cook."

"No problem, muff monkey," he replied, ruffling her hair. It was so strange, like no time had passed. Emily elbowed Cook, who in reply burst with a loud chuckle. They tussled a little, tickling each other, and found their way to the ground. They both sat up, breathing heavily, but feeling a little better.

Cook pulled out a joint and lit it. As he took a drag, something in his expression seemed to change. An idea sprung into his mind. "Hey, Ems, I'm going to this party later tonight, yeah? You should come."

"To a party?" Emily snatched Cook's joint. She inhaled the smoke and returned the joint to him. She couldn't help but laugh at the very idea of herself in her current state, going out to a party like she was seventeen again. "Do I look like I'm in the mood for partying, Cook?"

"Well, no, but that's exactly why you should come. When's the last time you went out and saw people and got drunk?"

"I really don't think it's such a good idea."

"Oh come on, Ems! Don't be such a pussy!"

"No! And besides, how's partying going to help anyway?"

"There's gonna be a ton of shaggable girls at the party."

"I'm not exactly looking for a shag at the moment, Cook, but thanks for the kind offer." Emily's words oozed with sarcasm.

"Suit yourself, kiddo. Look, I just know that if I were you, I'd be all over the fucking city looking for a bit of fun like that, you know what I mean?"

"Well," Emily said, taking the joint from Cook. "I'm not you. I handled a long-distance relationship with Naomi without shagging half the girls at uni." Emily examined the joint in her hand. The way it looked between her fingers, with the smoke coming out of it. It would look nice as a photograph, she thought, and took a few quick drags before returning it to Cook. "Did you know I haven't smoked one of these in a long time?"

A cheeky smile spread across Cook's face. "Going down the drain already, are we?" He threw the joint away with a smug look. He got up and helped Emily to stand up. "Come to the party, Ems!"

"I'll think about it, Cook, but I don't feel like it," She replied dryly.

"For old time's sake. For me. For her." He pointed in the direction of the house with the pride flag. "I think she'd like to see you party with me."

"Yeah, right," Emily smiled at Cook as she started pacing away. "I'm sure she's just counting the minutes with anticipation."

"Think about all the girls you're missing!" Cook raised his voice so that Emily would hear him.

She laughed, raising her thumbs up in the air as she kept walking. Holding his fists up in a victorious manner, Cook shared one last glance at Naomi's old house. He took a few more moments to take it in.

"I miss you too, you know." He said quietly before leaving.

* * *

After taking a shower, Emily was sitting on her bed with an album full of photographs from her trip to Goa with Naomi. She passed her finger against the pictures, examining them and finding Naomi gazing back at her from the photographs. She was smiling, her blonde hair was messy thanks to the wind, and there was this spark in her eyes. She looked perfectly healthy, like not a thing in the world could put out the fire in her gaze.

"Katie shum."

Emily must've been too focused on the album to notice her sister enter the room. She quickly took out the picture of Naomi she was looking at from album. She closed it and put it aside, folding the picture and putting it in the front pocket of the bright yellow shorts she was wearing. She moved a little to the side, signalling Katie to sit next to her.

"It's just that I sometimes forget the reason she's not here. Like, how shitty everything was and still is for you right now, and seeing you like this is really hard, Emily!" Katie took Emily's hand in hers and squeezed it. "I'd do anything for you, you know that, right?"

Emily nodded, "Yeah, I know."

"Then help me! Do something! You can't stay like this, Em, and I can't stay here forever, but if I leave you here all by yourself, mum's gonna go all mental!" Somewhere along the sentence, Katie started giggling at the thought of Jenna Fitch desperately trying to help her daughter in every way possible, buzzing around her like a bee. Emily chuckled quietly and looked into her sister's eyes.

"I'm going to get better, I promise." Emily squeezed her twin's hand back reassuringly.

"You better!" The sisters sat in silence for a few seconds, feeling relieved. "I, uh, got to go, Em. My boss invited me to this fancy dinner with other employees tonight."

"S'alright, I can handle myself," Emily offered Katie a smile.

"If you say so." Katie hesitated for a few moments, her eyes studying Emily's. "I can ask him to do it another night if-"

"No! Kaite, you should go. God knows you could loosen up a little, I mean you've been a real fucking twat lately."

Katie laughed. "Okay, but if anything happens, give me a call!" She got up on from the bed and approached her wardrobe, going through it and pulling out two dresses. One had a leopard print on it, and the other was all black and sparkly and filled with class to the brim. "Which one?"

"The black one. Definitely the black one. I mean, come on," Emily got up on her feet as well, grabbing the leopard print dress and tossing it away. "He's going to be all over you."

"You should come too." Katie said, all serious all of a sudden.

"What? Are you sure this is a good idea? Isn't it like an unofficial business meeting?" Emily tried to brush her off.

"I'm absolutely, positively sure." Katie turned back to the closet, choosing a second dress. This one was a deep burgundy colour, with a fiercely low cut. "Please come with me."

Emily took a deep breath, but eventually shrugged in defeat. "Fine, I'll go with you! But only because I don't want you to go on about how miserable I am all the time."

Katie smiled at Emily with gratitude and kissed her on the cheek before handing her the dress. "You will look so hot in this dress, Ems. You should really be the one thanking me here."

Emily giggled, taking the dress and appreciating it for a few moments. "Careful not to lose your boss to me." She teased, and the two laughed as they started to get ready for the evening.

* * *

"Looking good, Katie!" Katie's boss, a 30-something year old man with a heavily receding hairline, took Katie's hand as the sisters stepped out of their home, and kissed it.

"Oh, stop it, Bernard." Katie giggled and put a reassuring hand on Emily's shoulder. "This is my sister Emily. She's coming with us tonight."

Though he definitely looked surprised, Bernard quickly recovered and put a smile on his face. "Wonderful! It's a pleasure to meet you, Emily. Katie told me much about you." The man, reached out his hand to her, expecting to plant a kiss on her hand as well, but instead Emily shook his hand formally and smiled.

"Has she now? Good things I hope." Emily said, amused at the sight of the puzzled man as he recovered from the unexpected handshake. Katie elbowed her sister, mouthing a silent warning. Behave. "Thank you for letting me join in."

"Thank you for joining us. Shall we go?" Bernard led the two to his car, an impressive Rolls Royce that he clearly cared more about than most things in the world.

"Where was we're headed?" Katie asked when she sat down in the passenger's seat. Emily went in the back and sat in the seat behind Katie.

"The Avon Gorge Hotel, it's this wonderful restaurant with a stunning view over the Clifton Suspension Bridge." Bernard started the car. "I absolutely love it there, it's magnificent."

"How's the deal with Lobo going?"

"It's going well, actually. I think there's a good chance we can sign the contract next week, and they can put the advanced payment through."

"That's good! Then we can pay the insurance company so they'll finally bugger off."

As the two were talking, Emily got lost in her thoughts, shutting them out. She looked at the views from the car window, the features drawn in the dark glass. Building's reflections twisting and bending. The views in Bristol were so different from what she'd gotten used to in New York. Everything looked different. It should have felt like home, but it didn't. It felt cold and distant.

She suddenly became very aware of how mature her sister became. Visiting fancy restaurants with her boss on weekdays. Moving back in with her family for a while just to make sure that her sister was doing fine. She was constantly moving towards something. Always pushing onward.

As tears started to form in her eyes, Emily bit the inside of her cheek and looked away from the dark windows. She caught her sister looking at her reassuringly through the rear-view mirror. She offered her a smile, carefully wiping away her tears.

* * *

The Avon Gorge was stunning in the evening. As she was drinking her fourth glass of wine, she looked out at the view, leaning against the parapet. She regretted not bringing her camera with her from New York. Had the circumstance been different, had everything been different. Maybe in another world she was spending the evening with Naomi in London, a camera in one hand, the love of her life in the other. The Clifton Bridge was lit up beautifully, a yellow bridge of hope towering over the black waters of the River Avon.

Emily felt a warm hand on her shoulder. "I think you should slow down a bit with the drinking, yeah?" Katie stood next to her.

"Please, Katie, I need this. Trust me." Emily took a small rose-gold metal container from her handbag. Inside was a rolled joint. She lit it and inhaled deeply.

Katie groaned quietly with annoyance, and turned to look at the bridge as well. After a long moment of silence, Emily offered her the joint. "Whatever, why not." Katie took it and took a drag. "When you left for New York, it was almost as if you died," She took another drag from the joint. "Mum and dad were always buzzing around me, asking for help. Mum with her wedding planning service, dad and his new gym. They felt like I was the only one they could count on, so they did."

Emily looked at her sister through a blurry screen of the high from both the wine and the weed.

"I didn't want to stay there for so long. I didn't want to be the perfect daughter. I didn't want to listen to them going on about how fucked up your choices were and how shitty of a daughter you are. I hated them. Perfect daughter my arse." Katie sighed in frustration, "Don't fucking cry." She told herself quietly.

Emily hugged Katie. "I'm sorry I fuck everything up." She said.

"Oh stop feeling sorry, Em!" Katie broke the hug to look her sister in the eyes, holding on to both her shoulders. "Stop crucifying yourself and hating everything, it doesn't help anyone! Go out there and live, for fuck's sake!"

"I don't know how!" Emily tore away from Katie's grip, and took back the joint. "All I know is how to keep myself fucked up enough so I don't care too much about everything that's happened and kill myself." She took three last drags from the spliff before putting it out, and headed back for the table.

"There she is! We were beginning to worry you don't want to spend any time with us, Emily." one of the co-workers, whose name is Arthur, was drunkenly gesturing for Emily to sit down.

"Why is that?" Emily flopped down onto the chair, her body too heavy for her mind.

Arthur smiled cunningly. "You see, I asked your darling sister if I have a chance with you. Like, if I have a chance to fuck you."

"Shut up, Arthur." Bernard cut in, shooting him a warning look in his eyes.

"No, no - let me finish," Arthur's face looked dangerous, like he was thirsty for chaos. "Because she said no, and so I asked her why."

"Arthur, please shut up." It was Katie this time, pleading the drunk man to stop talking.

"She said you were gay." He was shifting his gaze from Emily to Katie, a satisfied smile smeared across his features.

Emily felt absurdly amused at how her sexuality was still causing such a stir for some people. It was different in New York. Nobody cared about that there, you were just you, doing your own thing, and so were everyone else. Too high to care. Too stressed to give a shit. "So I fancy girls, so what?"

"So what? So you haven't had the right kind of cock, is what!" Arthur leaned in close to Emily, glaring at her from across the round table.

"Trust me, Arthur, your cock isn't the magical cock that's going to turn me straight. I like pussy, I like tits, I like fucking with girls." Emily drank down her glass of wine, and turned to pour herself another one.

"She also told us about your girlfriend. Or, is she your ex now?"

Emily stood up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said, your sister told us all about how ever since your lezzy girlfriend died, you've been quite useless. I'm thinking, maybe you could use some cock!"

Drops of wine flew everywhere when Emily spilled the contents of her glass on Arthur. He immediately got up on his feet as well, towering over Emily. She pushed him with an angry roar. "Don't you dare talk about her, you sorry little prick!"

Arthur pushed her back, and was about to hit her when Katie stepped in between the two. "Back off, Arthur!"

"Move away, Katie!" Arthur said, rampant and angry, dodging from side to side and trying to get a chance to hit Emily.

"Don't fucking try to touch my sister!" She said and slapped him across the face."

"Katie, I think you should take your sister home." Bernard said, jumping to restrain Arthur quickly, with the help of two other employees who watched the spectacle with wide eyes.

"I'm perfectly capable of that on my own, thank you." Emily took her handbag and started heading out of the hotel restaurant.

"Wait for me!" Katie called out, running after Emily.

"Oh you've got some balls, you know that?" Emily stopped suddenly and turned to face her sister. "What the fuck were you doing talking about my personal life with these people?"

"Emily-"

"Fuck you, Katie! Don't let me ruin your fun night out. Just stay the fuck away from me, you bitch!"

* * *

Emily made it to the Suspension Bridge and sat down, her back against large metal poles reaching up for the sky. She felt sick to her stomach, her head spinning and her heart racing. Her mind felt like a large, gooey pool that would stretch to a hundred different directions all at once but never tear.

She looked out at the dark waters of the river. Just like the dark car window, the waters distorted the lights reflecting in them from both banks of the river. Emily reached into her bra and pulled out a folded picture. She unfolded it, and looked at Naomi in the picture. The healthy Naomi. The fiery spark in her eyes setting off an all too familiar feeling within her.

"Why did you have to leave?" She asked, tears turning her carefully applied make-up to an extravagant disaster. She traced the outlines of Naomi's figure in the picture with her finger, weeping in frustration.

The beeping of her phone caught Emily's attention, forcing her to look away from the picture. It was Katie. Emily folded the picture and put it back, taking the phone in her hands. Her finger hovered over the screen, a silent debate going on inside her. Before she could make up her mind, the call was over. "Shit." She took a deep breath, and unlocked her phone. She opened her contacts, and tapped on the search bar. Before she knew it, she already typed four letters and started an outgoing call.

Cook.


	2. Cook I

**A\N: So this is chapter two. I definitely had a better time writing this than the first chapter, if only because I was starting over completely fresh and didn't have to rewrite mounds of passages. I tried to savor some of that classic Skins humor in this one, putting the characters in odd situation to add some lightheartedness to this mess. I hope you enjoy! This is chapter 2, Cook I:**

* * *

For a while, Emily Fitch kept sitting, combating nausea and the odd in-and-out of reality rollercoaster that having too much to drink and then too much to smoke ensued. She would stretch her fingers for as long as she could, then curl up her fists and press as hard as possible. Her body was tingling all over, and she felt like her face was touching the surface of a body of invisible water. "Fuck fuck fuck," She cussed when she suddenly felt like if she sat there a minute longer she would pass out. Or die. She got up, holding on to the white poles attached to the bridge's strings. When she did, she felt like the world became a massive, rocking ship and like she was the only sailor, right in the middle of the top deck.

She threw up, or more like projectile vomited. Wine, she thought. Loads of wine. A few long moments later, during which she was cursing herself most of all, she spewed some more wine out. In a miraculous manner, she managed not to soil Katie's dress. She checked a second time, brushing her hands over the fabric in search of any particularly wet spots, and found none.

She felt better, a wave of relief washing over her. While the ecstatic, buzzing feeling wasn't gone, the nausea came to a relief and she was able to breathe properly again. Emily felt the need to move around. She had to go somewhere, anywhere. She started along the bridge, away from the Avon Gorge Hotel restaurant and its rowdy patrons. Away from Katie, at whom Emily was now realising she was implausibly furious with. What a bitch, the thought stretching in her mind as if she were standing in a stadium alone and shouting as loud as she could. It all just had to go tits up, didn't it.

Walking felt strange, Emily noted. Her legs felt like overcooked spaghetti and she was amazed by the fact that she hadn't fallen yet. She kept walking, or more like waddling her way forward until she came by an alluring bench, offering her some rest. She sat down, still hazy and definitely not anywhere near sober.

"You alright, Emilio?" Emily was startled by the sudden noise, and realised she must've dozed off for a few minutes. It was Cook sitting beside her, a lit cigarette in place between his lips. "You were freaking out over the phone, I got worried." She must have been shaking, because Cook took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her.

"I'm fine, Cook." She replied, out of habit more than anything, but then shifted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Actually, everything's shit and I'm high as balls."

Cook burst out with manic laughter, and fixed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Sounds like you've had a tough night. What's with fancy dress?"

"For some reason I thought going out on a dinner and work-meeting hybrid with Katie was a good idea. Turns out I'm the hottest scandal anyone in her office has ever heard of. Well, me and my dead girlfriend."

"Fuck, Ems, I'm sorry." Cook nestled Emily close to him, wrapping his arms around her in a warm bear hug.

"I want to party. I want to get royally hammered and forget my own name. I want to dance so much I can't walk anymore. I want to pretend, for one stupid night, that nothing is the fucked up way it is."

* * *

Emily gazed above her at the row of vibrant pride flags hanging valiantly from the second floor windows of the red-bricked house they parked next to. Blue lights bestowed an angelic glow upon the bricks. She got out of Cook's car, staring at the building.

"Queenshilling?" Emily looked at Cook with a questioning look on her face. "What the fuck is this?"

"Wow, Emily, man, when was the last time you went out in Bristol?" Cook was rolling a spliff, licking the sticky side with a suggestive smirk. Emily shrugged, raising her eyebrows and pressing her lips together in question. "Never mind, you're gonna love this." He lit the spliff, taking a few quick drags and holding them in. He offered her the joint, leaning against the side of his vehicle. She held it in her fingers, hesitant at first, but then the thought of having to deal with her thoughts sparked an innate reaction within her and she succumbed to its pressure. She took a long drag, inhaling directly to her lungs, the taste of marijuana filling up her mouth and the back of her throat. When she finally let it out, a familiar sense of aridness in her mouth crept up on her. "That's my girl!" Cook flashed a wicked smile at her as she took a few more drags, none as deep as the first one, and handed the blunt back to Cook.

Emily could suddenly hear music coming from inside the building, the low bassline hum dancing at the tip of her toes. "Right," Emily stretched out her hands, emitting a cracking sound from the joints of her fingers. "Let's do this."

They entered the club. Emily was awestruck with countless neon lights, all in calming colours matching the flags that hung outside. A disco ball hanging from the ceiling shot colourful beams of light all across the interior. And the music. It was loud, its beat guiding her heartbeat like a conductor. It even took her mind off how packed the place was as she pushed her way through the dancing crowd towards the bar.

"Would you like to order a drink?" The man running the bar asked. When she looked at him, Emily realised he was very obviously gay, which may have raised no eyebrows in New york, but this wasn't New York. In Bristol, it wasn't as common to find bartenders that are out and proud, as a vast majority of the population turned viciously violent when inebriated. Their favourite targets were of course 'faggots', who in their mind had no means of defending themselves. She then turned to look around to find that most of the people in the club were gay. Just then Cook managed to squeeze through the crowd and join her.

"I told you were going to love this!" He said with a devilish grin. "Oi mate, a couple of shots of Tequila per each, please!" Cook had to shout, competing with the loud music for the bartender to be able to hear him. He was right, though. She did love it. They drank down the first of their shots, Cook letting out a wolfish cry when he was done. By the time they downed their second shot, Emily joined him with a yowl of her own. The extravaganza turned a few heads in their direction, one of which was that of a young red-haired woman who smiled at Emily flirtatiously. Emily returned a smile of her own, more ravenous than playful, as Tequila began to settle in her system and catapult her high way up. "Go on, Ems, I think she's eyeing ya." Cook pushed her gently towards the red-head, patting her back encouragingly.

It wasn't long until Emily was dancing with the redhead, her mind in a haze and her body on auto-pilot. Gentle hands pulled her waist ever closer while tender lips brushed against hers. It sent waves of shivers through her skin, her lips itching with anticipation. Being unable to withhold any longer she kissed the stranger, tugging at her lip playfully. The girl answered with a kiss of her own, much deeper and slower. Her heart hammering along to the music, Emily explored the redhead's back, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt before gliding up underneath it. She relished the feeling of warm skin against hers, one that has been eluding her for what seemed like forever. High on drinks, puff, and desire Emily pushed forward, paving a way between crowds of dancing people, until the two came to a halt against a wall in the corner of the club. She pinned the girl to the wall, breathless and excited. The girl let out a satisfied sigh, pulling Emily in even closer and kissing her feverishly. Surely finger-fucking in a remote corner of a crowded dance club wasn't ideal, but Emily was enjoying herself far too much to stop her deft fingers from working their magic on the stranger, and the girl's enraptured moans did little to convince her otherwise. As nails dug deeper into her skin and breathing patterns became messier, Emily was approaching her own sort of nirvana. As the girl climaxed, twisting and bending against Emily, a small pang of guilt rebelled somewhere in the very back of her mind.

Eager to express her gratitude, the redhead took Emily's hand in hers and led her through the dancing crowd. In less than a minute, the two were making out passionately inside a restroom stall. It was Emilly being pinned to the wall this time, as the redhead rained kisses down her neck as she lifted Em's dress (well, Katie's dress, for which Emily was now infinitely grateful) well above her waist. The redhead kept trailing kisses down Emily's body until she knelt, her head between Emily's thighs. Em panted heavily, the stranger's nimble tongue sending tides of pleasure rocketing through her body. She let out a not-so-quiet whimper when she came, to which the girl replied with a satisfied grin as she rose to her feet. They kissed once more, slowly and gently. Emily fixed her dress, brushing it down to it's intended state. She kissed the redhead on the cheek, whispering a quiet 'Thank you' before leaving the restrooms and rejoining the massive dance rave in the club.

Emily Fitch danced like a lunatic, completely oblivious of her environment. The dazzling lights and the loud music made her forget about everything and just focus on the moment. Oh, and how blissful it was indeed, that moment. Nobody tried to grope her, nothing broke her high as beads of sweat formed on her skin.

* * *

The first thing to bring her back down to earth was shouting. Emily looked around her, startled at the abrupt change in atmosphere.

"You really thought you could get away from us, Cookie?" A coarse voice tore through the music. Its source was a large, bearded figure that looked royally pissed off. Wait, did he just say Cook? Thoughts and voices echoed inside Emily's head, resulting in a confusing, doped up feeling. "That's cute, hiding in a gay bar so that we don't find you. Fucking dumb of you to park right outside, though. We know you're here!" Someone grasped Emily's hand firmly and started leading her through the confused crowd.

"Cook?" She asked.

"We have to get out, Ems. Quiet." He answered. Emily started feeling queasy as euphoria left her in favour of a nasty headache. Just as the two were about to escape the club, the hoarse voice called out again.

"There they are! After them!"

They started running. They pushed open the door and ran straight for the car. When they got in, Cook started the engine and immediately took off. Not a few moments later, they were already chased by a large, intimidating car. "I need you to buckle up, okay?" Cook shot Emily a worried glance. She nodded and made use of the car seat belt, suddenly feeling like her heart might explode if she doesn't calm down soon. "Hold on tight, princess."

They soared through traffic, ignoring red lights and stop signs, gliding in and out of oncoming traffic. Every turn sent Emily flying in one direction or the other, her seatbelt standing guard and bringing her back into her place. First came a rush, meteoric in its grandeur as street lights and neon signs darted past her, countless of colours playing into an exquisite motion picture. It surrounded her, the potent smell of the engine as it roared with determination, yellow lights from outside, and Cook's nervous breathing a steady constant in all the racket. The smell of something burnt went up with every one of his violent turns as Cook hit the brakes, sending yet another brilliant rush through Emily. When she turned to look back, they were still being chased by the same large car, looming behind them.

"Hurry up!" She belted, and Cook heeded her call. When he stepped on the gas, the car kicked forward with another one of its stupendous roars. Emily felt elated, their sheer speed pushing her against the seat as her high sent her on a second round of ecstasy. Just when they seemed to escape, their pursuers reappeared from an adjacent street, forcing Cook to manoeuvre the vehicle so as not to hit an oncoming car. He turned sharply to the left, pressing hard on the brakes, then pushed onward, seizing the advantage while their stalkers had to drive around the car they miraculously just avoided. The familiar sight of the Clifton Suspension Bridge sprung in front of Emily as they doubled back to where their shared adventure began. They blasted through the bridge, bypassing cars as they tried to cover as much ground as possible before having to navigate tight alleys and narrow roads clearly not meant for such turbulent racing. The pursuers were hot on their heels though, and as fast as they went it did not appear as though anyone was planning on giving up. Soon, the suburban views of Leigh Woods surfaced in front of them. Cook took a sharp turn to the right, but not fast enough. The rover chasing them had managed to catch up, and hit them just as they were turning. That's when the rush was over, replaced with overwhelming anxiety. As she recovered from the sudden jerk resulting from colliding with the rover, Emily knew only one thing for sure. She had to get out.

Cook stepped on the gas, propelling the vehicle onward down a side street. They passed dormant homes and green, bushy walls. After a few moments of reprieve, their chasers popped up behind them yet again. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Emily thought, fidgeting nervously with her fingers. "Cook, Cook I can't take this anymore," She said, short of breath and on the brink of tears.

"What's going on Em, you've been hit?" Cook kept his eyes glued to the road, absolutely focused as they stormed through North Rd. He turned left when they passed a church.

"I can't breathe, I need to-" But she couldn't even finish the sentence, as nausea took hold of her.

"Just relax, it's gonna be fine, I promise." He said. A couple of turns later Emily had lost all sense of direction. They were going in what seemed like circles. Just as they were about to turn again, Emily got a glimpse at the faces in the rover. They looked surprised to witness Cook pop out like he did. They tried to stop their car, but failed miserably. She saw how fear took over their features as it dawned on them that the fatal collision was inevitable. They managed to steer the vehicle to the side, only hitting the very back of Cook's car. It was sent flying in circles like a flimsy toy until it met with a wooden fence they smashed through and then hit a large tree, coming to a halt.

Emily jumped at the opportunity, quickly unbuckling her seatbelt. She was already halfway out the car when Cook came to his senses. Soon as she set foot outside, Emily threw up for the third time that night, bitterly regretting those shots of Tequila. She leaned forward, arms propped up against her knees as she took deep breaths.

"Now's really not the time, Em, we've got to fuck right off." Cook stood beside her, a comforting hand on her back. "Come on, we need to move." He took her hand, not leaving her much choice as they ran through the woods beside a defined dirt trail. Emily's muscles ached, her stomach rumbled and every breath she took felt like a burning inferno. Any remains of the high that previously held onto her were all but gone, replaced by a loud ringing in her ear. She focused on Cook's instructions as he led her through the dark woods, but she felt her powers slowly abandon her. She was implausibly wrecked. With wobbly strides, the two made their descent towards the Avon river, engulfed by darkness and fear. Emily fell twice, losing her balance and plummeting to the ground with faint, high-pitched screeches. Cook helped her up, whispering calming words and pulling her after him, all the while listening for any signs of their pursuers.

After what felt like hours, Emily and Cook emerged from the woods at the riverbank, the Clifton Suspension Bridge towering to their right. Emily threw up again, her body desperately attempting to rid itself of anything still left in her stomach. Cook hurried to her side, keeping her hair back and trying to calm her down. Emily didn't hear any of the things that he was saying though. An odd sense of buzzing rang through her body, and the last thing Emily fitch remembered was seeing two massive and muddy tears in her sister's dress. Fucking hell.

* * *

Cook was never particularly good at riding bicycle. He always preferred walking and running to any of the cool trends that ruled the world back when he was young. Skateboarding just never cut it for him the same way it did for Freddie. He'd been told a million times that he's rubbish, navigating the bike stiffly as it darted from side to side, too out of control for him. His body, on the other hand…

But he pushed through, breathing heavily, sweat forming on his brow despite the cold early morning breeze as he pedalled the rickshaw he stole. He looked back at the rickshaw seats. Still unconscious, Emily lay there covered in Cook's leather jacket and his warm sweater.

It had been a long climb back up the hill to Leigh Woods, especially with an unconscious Emily Fitch in his arms. He had to make three pit stops to catch his breath, carefully laying Emily down on the leafy forest floor only to pick her back up and resume his journey. He couldn't call a cab as per the unconscious Emily and the unwanted attention it might bring. He also couldn't carry her the entire way home. It might've been a short enough drive, but his car was wrecked. He'd had a proper view of it once he made the ascent. If the crash itself didn't do enough damage, the pricks chasing them must've bashed what was left of it to an unrecognisable state. There was broken glass everywhere and not a single plate of metal was left unscathed. Yeah, if he wasn't before - he was proper fucked now.

Carrying Emily Fitch through the empty streets of Leigh Woods, James Cook had to come up with a solution. Except, it being Cook and life being the strange beast that it is, the solution to Cook's current array of problems arrived in the form of rickshaw bicycle, occupied by a very intoxicated Irish driver. The driver let out a stream of jaw dropping cuss words as Cook took him out of the rickshaw and onto the cold, coarse road. Cook put cash in his hands as a form of thank you, and set out on the road as soon as he placed Emily onto the seats.

Shirtless, exhausted and amazingly sweaty, Cook made his slow but steady way home. As he neared Clifton Down Rd, it dawned on him that he'd have to cycle through the very city centre. Having been through such a long night with such strange occurrences, the idea did not sit well with him. Everywhere Cook went, puzzled head turned in his direction, desperately trying to understand what in the world is the young man doing in a rickshaw with a passed out girl in the back so early in the morning right in the middle of Bristol.

Positively crushed with exertion, Cook made a stop at the Thali Cafe. He'd known one of the waitresses there, and with good use of Cook's silver tongue, he arranged himself a nice cup of black coffee on the house, along with a hurried kiss and a promise for a date.

"Do I even want to know?" The waitress asked, raising a brow when she stepped outside for a cigarette break and witnessed the dodgy sight of the passed out girl in a rickshaw, wearing a torn dress, covered in Cook's clothes.

"Nah," He shook his head, pursing his lips cheekily. "But don't worry, she's not competition or anything. Just an old friend."

"Ah," The waitress sighed with feigned relief. She shifted her gaze back to Cook. "I mean, she is cute though. I hope you know what you're doing."

The truth was Cook hadn't the faintest idea what the fuck he was doing. He totalled his car, owed money to some drug lords for selling on their turf, then he also owed money to his own employers for some trouble he'd caused with the police. The latest addition to his long list of fuckups was sitting in the back of the rickshaw he stole. Putting Emily at risk nudged at his heartstrings. She could've gotten seriously hurt.

After he finished his coffee and parted with the waitress with a rushed kiss on her cheek, Cook pushed through the last mile and a half of the way.

* * *

Emily Fitch took a sizable bite out of her lox sandwich. She couldn't remember the last time she had it, but she faintly recalled her father's birthday and a nervous James Fitch desperately trying to escape his father's lox-swinging hands. She smiled at the thought, wiping mayonnaise stains from her mouth with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, savouring warm the warm rays of sunlight that danced on her skin. "This is really good," Emily said to Cook, sitting beside her, regarding the sandwich.

"Told ya, no better sandwiches in all of Bristol." He ruffled Emily's hair, devouring his own sandwich with a worrying speed. Sitting there in a rickshaw in the middle of Castle Park definitely wasn't how Emily envisioned this morning, but it was surprisingly pure and uplifting. They joked about the stern faced businessmen passing them by, coming up with hilarious monologues to suit the expressions on their face. 'Oh, mind me young lady, I hadn't had a proper shag in ten years and I'm very late to my fuck all job.' Cook joked. 'Oh my! Wouldn't you look at the time? It's pornstache o'clock! Very professional, I know.' Emily replied with her own quip.

But even as they laughed, Emily felt that there was something else there. A sense of melancholy that she couldn't shake off. Something felt off. As much as Cook tried to mask it with jeers and joints and drinks, something was clearly bothering him. "So are you going to tell me what's going on, Cook?"

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well, let's start with what are you doing back in Bristol? I thought you moved away." Emily searched for clues in his eyes, anything that might give him away. All she found was isolated restraint.

He swallowed hard and shrugged. "Didn't have no place else to go."

"Okay," Emily stretched out her legs. Katie's dress looked like shit. Torn and covered in mud, it was almost magnificently fucked. The same could most likely be said about Emily herself once Katie sees her darling dress. Emily breathed in deep, "Why are there people chasing you?" Surprisingly enough, last night's events were all vivid in her memory. The dinner at the Avon Gorge Hotel with her sister and some co-workers, the redhead at The Queenshilling, the car chase. That last memory sent sparks of adrenaline through her body.

Cook remained silent for a couple of minutes, fighting invisible battles in his mind. Eventually he let out a quiet 'fuck it'. "I fucked up. I messed with the wrong people, sold on the wrong territory. Talked too fucking loud. Didn't keep my head down." For a moment, sunlight beamed through the clouds, colouring everything golden honey. Even in the angelic light, James Cook looked very, very tired.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Emily gave him a challenging look. Underneath her words was a demand. Fight it. The same demand she got from her sister.

"I don't know, Ems, I tried! I fucking tried starting over again. I tried to leave everything behind me but it's just not how it works, is it? Everything gets fucked no matter how you try to handle things. It just does." His distress felt like a punch in the stomach. It was all too familiar.

"Oh, fuck off Cook, you can do better than this."

"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know the type of shit I went through, the people I lost because I was being a selfish prick!" By then, Cook wasn't holding back. Tears glistened in his eyes. Underneath that tough demeanour still stood a frightened boy who didn't know any better. It wasn't long until Emily's eyes were filled with tears as well.

"We all lose people!" She blurted out. "But you're Cook! If you can't fight it then what hope is there for the rest of us?"

Cook remained silent, wiping away his tears with a clenched jaw. Emily turned away from him, pissed off at everything. Most of all, she was pissed off at herself. Get your shit together, Emily Fitch.

When it was time to go back home, Emily was the one doing the cycling. As she worked the pedals, somewhat more gracefully than her friend, Cook shouted out songs from the back of the rickshaw, spliff in hand and a wide smile on his lips, like none of the conversation they just had ever occurred. Deeming it favourable to wallowing in self pity, Emily sang along with him, her husky voice hardly a competition for his bellowing. A few strangers walking past even sang along with them, causing Emily to break into a fit of giggling that made handling the rickshaw that much harder. When they made it to Emily's home, she got off the rickshaw.

"Ready?" He asked from the back of the rickshaw as he moved towards the bicycle.

Emily took a deep breath. She counted to five as slowly as she could, and rang the doorbell.

* * *

 **I'd like to thank everyone reading, and especially those who take the time to leave a review. It feels really great to know that I'm not alone in thinking that these characters deserve better. If you like the story so far and are interested in seeing how it all unfurls in favor of a decent end for Emily, please let me know. Hope you have a wonderful day!**


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